


Kinda, I Want To

by Cluegirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War's over, the awards and the political spin doctoring begin, and Draco is out of patience for it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinda, I Want To

All of a sudden, Draco decided he'd had enough.

Perhaps it was the crowd, the faces all turned toward the stage, where Harry-bloody-Potter stood with his fanclub toadies while the politicians recited the endless fucking list of just why they should be adored. This vast, bland throng of dressed-up sheep who never thought to ask HOW Potter had gotten close to the Dark Lord in the first place.

Perhaps it was the smugly cold expression on his father's face as he stood, free and defiant in the throng -- as though he'd done one single thing to _earn_ his freedom. As though Draco's work and risk and sacrifice hadn't been the coin with which he'd bargained for his own freedom. As though the fact of his freedom was some kind of personal triumph.

Or perhaps it was simply the rigid back of the man standing before him -- black-draped in the peacock-bright crowd, rigidly tight against the milling awe. The man who, like himself, wouldn't be welcome up on that stage of heroes. The man who, like himself, had received the medal and parchment via private owl, as though a few names scratched on parchment could do service for looking them in the eye and admitting what they'd both done for the heroes.

The war would not have been won without them. The two of them. The Heroes knew it. The politicians knew it. They knew it. _So what the fuck are we doing here?_ He wondered.

And then decided that he didn't care. And a moment after that, his wand was in his hand, and the spell was on his lips. The long seam down the back of Severus' over cloak split with a whisper. Severus jolted at the whispered charm, but aside from his wand appearing in those long fingers, he made no other movement, not even when Draco pressed himself close, and slid his arms under the sheltering cloth.

"What, exactly, do you think you're doing, brat?"

Draco smiled to hear the growl, but didn't let it stop him. "Alleviating the boredom," he whispered back, letting his palms smooth down the fine wool to where Severus' teaching robes split. And just underneath that lay the object of his quest, quiescent at present, but wanting only a tickle, he knew, to raise its head and come to attention. "I'm not distracting you," he breathed, tracing his fingers softly over the growing bulge, "Am I?"

For answer, he felt the over-cape pull closer together in front, the silken lining brushing his knuckles. He hid a smile between his lover's shoulder blades and got started on the buttons. They both gave a shiver when the heated length at last spilled into Draco's hands. "Guess what I'm thinking," Draco murmured, delicately stroking, relying on fingers and wrists lest his elbows be seen to move.

"Clearly, you are _not_ thinking," Severus replied, his bored tone belying the barely-restrained jutting of his hips. Draco snorted, pressing his thumb along the divot underneath the soft, spongy head.

"Wrong," he said as one of the stuffed suits finished introducing the other and a smattering of applause swept the crowd, "Guess again."

Severus took a shaky breath, aimed a fraction of a nod at Lucius, who stood smirking and oblivious just a little ahead of them. "You're thinking of what you will say to him over dinner tonight," Severus' voice was smug and nasty, "when he asks you when you mean to make good on his promise to Parkinson."

"No," Draco mused, rolling the foreskin gently back and forth along the slickened head, "You're the only one perverse enough to be thinking about my supposedly arranged marriage while I've got my hands full of your _cock."_ The last word was pressed into the back of Severus's neck -- nothing more than a damp lip-shape framed by sharp clicks, but knowing its own name, the heated member gave a surge in Draco's grip. He smiled and stroked it a little faster. "Guess again."

It took Severus several breaths before he could. One ear against Severus' trembling back, Draco listened to them whistle past against the counter-beat of the hammering heart. "You're thinking," he stopped the word just before a gasp could escape. Pleased, Draco did that with his thumb again. "You're thinking it's been too long since I've had this cloak cleaned." And one long-fingered hand closed over Draco's, as though to insure that the stroking would not stop.

"Mmm," Draco chuckled, feeling his own cock swell and throb against his belly, "That's a side benefit, actually. But you're close --" he blew the word into Severus' ear, and smiled at the shiver he couldn't suppress. "Aren't you?"

"Tolerably," Severus allowed, but his fingers tightened Draco's grip on his cock. The crowd applauded again, this time with more interest. Draco glanced up to see Potter standing, wearing that damned bashful smile that always made people adore him, as though he didn't bloody well _expect_ their adulation.

He leaned close, stilled his hands and whispered under cover of the roar. "That's three guesses, Severus. Shall I tell you?"

The dark head turned in slow, aching increments, until he was glaring back from one eye, so black and hot Draco could almost feel the glare sear his skin. Grinning, Draco eased his hands away from Severus' cock, straightened his back and lifted his chin. Then, with timing he could not have prayed to make better, he spoke loud and clear into the final dregs of the crowd's applause.

"I think we should leave this fucking pantomime," he pretended not to see his father's cutting glare, or Potter's affronted scowl, kept his challenging stare on Severus's face. "I don't know about you, but I've got better things to do with my time."

"Brat," Severus snarled, his glare giving way to a smirk of amusement. "I thought you'd never ask!"

And viper quick, so that only a few even glimpsed the ruddy slash of skin in the shadows of his robes, the Potions Master snatched the Slytherin prince to him. He gave the crowd one sweeping glower, ending with a cold smile to the blond man beside him's towering rage. Then the pair disapparated with a crack that sounded, to some who had cause to suppose they knew, very much like a bridge collapsing into flames.

The End


End file.
